Buried in Time

A Hogan's Heroes story by

FleckaRAF

Quick Author's Note:

So, although I've been a member of this site for a few years, this is my first time publishing. I spent those years reading a lot of HH fanfiction, and trying to learn from the masters.

I kept re-editing and putting off submitting stories, but I've finally figured that the sooner I publish something and start learning from my mistakes, hopefully the better off I'll be by this time next year. So I've picked this one to be the 'guinea pig'. LOL

I'd really appreciate constructive criticism, this story will probably need it :)

A panicked voice sounded over the radio, interrupted by bursts of static. Newkirk listened, an overwhelming sense of helplessness filling his heart with dread as he fumbled with the controls of the plane, trying to avoid pieces of flying debris and reply to near frantic calls from his young RAF mate.
"Peter! I've been hit! I'm goin' down!
" 'old on, Freddie! I. . ." The young Englishman froze mid-sentence, unsure of what to say.
One moment of distraction was all it took. Suddenly something hit his right wing, sending the plane spinning out of control. Newkirk instinctively knew he had to get out, and tried to tell Freddie the same thing.
"Parachute now mate! Freddie? Can ya 'ear me?"
But there was no response. Pushing desperately on his hatch, he found it was stuck. There was no escape. He had never been so scared in all his life. The last thing he remembered was the B-17 plummeting downwards at a terrifying speed. He had no recollection of the landing.

xxxHHxxx

Newkirk woke with a headache and a strange sense of foreboding. He sat up and gazed around at the other POWs, most of whom were up and moving about the Barracks, mumbling annoyed remarks at the rotund barracks guard, Sergeant Schultz, who ignored them and continued proclaiming,
"Raus Raus Raus Everybody Up for Roll Call!"

LeBeau said something about Strudel in French, and Schultz's ears practically perked up as he edged in LeBeau's direction, beaming.
"Did I hear something about Strudel?" he whispered in his ear. Lebeau scowled up at him and flung his scarf over his shoulder.

"I was just saying that if I keep having to get up this early I'm not gonna have the energy to make any more."

Schultz's smile vanished and he drew himself up indignantly. "It is not my orders, it is the order of Kommandant Klink! Now raus raus raus!"

Col. Hogan came out of his quarters, straightening up the collar of his jacket. "Okay Schultz, we get the picture. Mustn't stop you from doing your duty." he said with a flattering smile while nudging the guard towards the door. "We'll be out in a moment."

Newkirk slid down from the top bunk, throwing on his RAF overcoat and shoving his hands deep into the pockets. It was a crisp, cold morning, and the barracks were freezing - the fire having burn itself out the previous night. He couldn't seem to shake a feeling of deep guilt and failure, though he couldn't for the life of him think why he felt that way.

The POWs shuffled outside and stood in line. The Englishman didn't pay attention to Klink's long-winded speech, instead he stared at his feet and racked his brains - trying to figure out what was wrong.
It only succeeded in making his headache worse. Suddenly he heard the Kommandant's voice address him a very irritated tone.

". . . and you are not listening, Newkirk!"

Newkirk hastily stood erect and removed his hands from his pockets. "Oh yes I was, sir, I was definitely listenin' to ya."

"Then repeat what I said!"

Inwardly kicking himself Newkirk stalled, furiously trying rememeber what Klink was saying. "I beg ya pardon, sir?"

"I said Repeat - What - I - Said." Klink replied in painfully slow tones.

"Uhh. . . " Newkirk glanced across at the Hogan, who was standing to attention beside him and gazing straight ahead in very military fashion. When he realized no help was forthcoming, he decided to just guess. It wasn't like the Kommandant made a new speech each day. "Ya were sayin' 'ow prisoners should behave?"

But his luck was out for the day. Klink put his head on the side and studied the Englishman. "No, that is not what I was saying. However, seeing as you seem to want to know how to behave, I'll tell you." This elicited a collective groan from all the men. Newkirk winced. Now am I goin' ta cop flack later!

However Klink held up his hand, smiling benevolently. "I did not mean all of you."

Cheers from the crowd

"You were all listening, weren't you?"

Shouts of affirmation sounded loudly from the ranks.

"Then I only need to discipline the Englander," The Kommandant waved his hand with a generous sigh. "All of you, dissssmissed! Newkirk, come with me!"

Hogan shot a sympathetic look at Newkirk as he was marched off the Klink's office. Newkirk's hands were back in his pockets and he was frowning, but the corporal just shrugged at his CO and followed the soft-hearted Schultz.

xxxHHxxx

". . . and furthermore, Newkirk, I expect more punctuality from all of you. Take an example from Colonel Hogan . . . " Klink went on, gesturing with his hands earnestly. "You know I am a nice fellow, and I do not like to punish you despite the fact you deserve it. . ."

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. The Kommandant seemed to be in a remarkably good mood that morning, and while Newkirk was grateful that he was merely getting a brief reprimand for his negligence, he didn't like Klink's good humour. As Klink launched into a paragraph that all the POWs had heard before, Newkirk allowed his mind to wander, taking in every detail of the room. His eyes caught sight of Klink's diary lying open on the desk, noted the date, and was about to turn his attention to something else when realization struck him so hard that he involuntarily inhaled sharply That's it - I forgot - 'ow did I forget?
Lost in a heavy fog of his own thoughts, he vaguely he became aware that Klink's spiel was nearing its conclusion.

". . . so never forget - nobody has ever escaped from Stalag 13! Dissssmissed!"

All Newkirk could do was nod and exit the room as Schultz held the door open for him. He wandered over toward a secluded part of the compound, depressed.
'e was me mate - I failed 'im. . .
He stopped walking and sat down on a bench, head pounding. Scrubbing his hands over his face, the Englishman bit his lip hard, an overwhelming sadness gripping his heart. His eyes stung with unshed tears.
Ya useless sod - ya made a promise ta 'im. Ya said ya'd look after 'im, an' look what ' appened. Just a kid, 'e was. . .

How long he sat there, he didn't know. Eventually he looked up, and remembered that the Colonel had called for a meeting some time later that morning. When he reached the barracks door, he paused a moment to recollect himself, then pushed the door open and walked in.
Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch were playing cards at the table. Judging from their expressions, Carter had just won the hand. As usual.
Carter was first to noticed Newkirk enter. "Oh, hi Newkirk! Do you wanna play? We're about to start the next round."

Newkirk shook his head as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down beside them. "Nah, Andrew, I'll just watch. Thanks anyway."

Carter smiled and began dealing out. "Okay."

Kinch grinned at Newkirk's thoughtful expression. "How was the Kommandant's talk? Were you listening?"

The corner of Newkirk's mouth lifted as he strove to push back the negative thoughts that were invading his mind. He succeeded for the moment, though just barely. "Ahh, ya know old Klink. 'e's too forgetful - 'e gave me the same ruddy talk 'e gave me last time." He sipped the coffee, finding it little more than lukewarm. He sighed inwardly, but continued to drink it anyway.

Hogan climbed up the ladder from the emergency tunnel, and looked at his watch. "Right fellas, time for our meeting. Into the office."
As the four men moved to obey, Hogan caught Newkirk's arm with an apologetic smile. "Sorry I didn't help you out with Klink earlier." he said, "I need to go ask him something later and I wanted him to be - shall we say pleased with me."
Newkirk gave an amused snort of laughter. "Righto Guv'nor. I figured it was somethin' like that."

In Hogan's quarters, he gave them a rough schedule for the day. "Carter, Newkirk, you guys are on tunnel duty today. This new branch needs to be dug out by the weekend, so you'll take this shift. Alright?"
The pair nodded, suppressing sighs. It was a beautiful morning outside, not a day you'd want to be busy underground.
"Great. Go get started, will you?"
Newkirk pushed Carter out the door, following closely.

"Now Kinch, I've noticed some static when we connect up the coffeepot. Could you have a look at it. . ."

xxxHHxxx

BOOM!

Hogan looked up from his book he was reading as he heard the sound of a explosive being detonated not far off. LeBeau jumped and nearly dropped the eggs he was using to make pancakes. "What was that?" he exclaimed, placing the eggs carefully down on the table.

Hogan frowned.
"I don't know. Sounds like some blasting work being done nearby maybe?" he shrugged, slightly confused. "I didn't hear anything about it from Klink."
He stood up and went to the window. Over in the distance he could see a greyish haze against the otherwise bright blue sky. "I'll go see what I can find out from Schultz."

Lebeau nodded, vehemently beating the eggs in a bowl. "Do that, mon colonel. And tell him he should have let us know sooner! I nearly ruined the pancakes because of him! Some stupid Boshe have no consideration for delicate tasks!"

Grinning at Lebeau's passion for perfectionism, Hogan strode outside into the sunshine, in search of the Barracks guard. An aggrieved indignant attitude should be just perfect to get any information he wanted out of Schultz.

xxxHHxxx

"Andrew?"

Carter looked up from the dirt he was shoveling. "Yeah?"

Newkirk leaned on the handle of his pick-axe, and wiped away the sweat that was gathering on his forehead with a dirty hand. "Why don't ya go back ta the entrance o' the tunnel an' bring us back somethin' ta drink? We've been at this ruddy tunnel since roll-call, I reckon we've earned ourselves a break."

Carter nodded in agreement. "I sure do too. I'll go see what I can get." He dropped his shovel against the wall, rubbing his hands with a wry expression. "I'm gonna have blisters all over my hands tomorrow." he said.

Newkirk grinned. "That jus' goes ta show you that ya need ta be doin' a lot more work with those 'ands o' yours." he replied, putting down his pick-axe. Although he didn't admit it, his hands were rough and sore as well.
That's what comes o' bein' a part-time tailor he thought. Ya 'ands get soft with 'andling all that fabric.

Another explosion rocked the ground, and a trickle of dirt slid down from the walls. Newkirk ducked a small rock that dislodged and fell from the roof.
"Oh, an' ask the Colonel what's with all o' the blastin' that's started up. They ain't 'elping with the diggin' one bit."

"Okay." With a dismissive wave, Carter smiled and began heading back up the tunnel.

Newkirk sat down and began rubbing his own tired hands. He was somewhat glad that the Colonel had assigned him and Carter to dig, it had taken his mind off his feelings of worry and guilt for the time being. In fact, he'd hardly been able to think of anything with Carter nattering on and on about every topic under the sun.
Barely a minute had passed before there was another huge boom. Newkirk heard a harsh crack as the tunnel roof gave way, before a cascade of dirt and rocks began pouring down on top of him. He had no time to react to the sudden turn of events before something hard hit his head and he blacked out, half buried under the pile of debris.

From the other end of the Tunnel, Carter almost lost his balance when he heard the explosion. He whirled around, and saw a cloud of dust drifting out from the direction he'd come. He stared in horror.
"Newkirk!" he shouted, and dashed back into the tunnel.

TBC. . .

Well, there is the first chapter! Yes, Newkirk is my favourite character. I promise the chapters will get better.

Please drop review! This is my first story, and I would love some feedback to help me improve my writing :)